Evermore
by electricsymphony
Summary: Stefan told him they would reevaluate in fifty years. Desiccated and deserted for fifty years, someone does come to awaken him-it's a familiar face, but it's not Stefan's. His reawakening will put into motion a series of events that wages a war between brothers, divides longtime friends and puts an entire unsuspecting populous in peril. AU-post 1x04. Datherine, Elejah, Stebekah.


**Notes: **I was watching 1x04 and 1x05 on this snowy-snow day to get some D&amp;R inspiration. Instead, this happened. This is very short, but I wanted to set the scene before we delved into the story. The entire first part of this chapter's dialogue is taken from 1x05, 'You're Undead To me'.

**Disclaimer: **The Vampire Diaries, its characters, plot lines and premise belong to LJ Smith, Kevin Williamson, Julie Plec, The CW, Warner Brothers and their affiliates. I do not own anything detailed in this story, and I make no monetary profit by these writings. All rights reserved to respective parties.

* * *

His throat is scalding hot, his limbs numb and bent, the faintest echo of blood pulsing in his ears. He's lying on the cold, unforgiving ground of the downstairs cell, dirt in his ears and sweat in his eyes. Stefan's standing ominously on the other side of the cell bars, his eyes hollow and lifeless. Damon croaks out a barely audible "Where's my ring?" and cringes at how weak he sounds.

Stefan doesn't flinch—remains perfectly emotionless. "You won't be needing it anymore."

Trying to move his head into a position where he can better see his brother, he grapples with the overwhelming urge to snap his neck—an overwhelming urge that his frail body won't allow for. "How long have I been here?"

"Three days."

"What are you doin'?" He asks frantically, starting to understand the gravity of his brother's intentions. He knows with crystal clarity that Stefan has undoubtedly had his moments of insanity, but even he couldn't possibly be this insane… right?

Damon thinks it would be decidedly less unnerving if Stefan was smirking in smug satisfaction, but instead his eyes remain dead, devoid of emotion. "During the dark ages, when a vampire's actions threatened to expose or bring harm upon the entire race, they would face judgment." Stefan's voice lowered, a sliver of emotion finally seeping into his voice—some indication of remorse. "They sought to _reeducate_ them rather than punish them."

His voice was a sharp blade, bitter and disgusted. "You know what will happen if I don't…" he trailed off, the weakness getting the better of him… "feed on blood," he choked out with difficulty.

With an almost imperceptible nod, Stefan effectively conceded that he fully understood the pain he was willing to inflict on his brother. "You'll grow weaker and weaker. Eventually, you won't be able to move or speak. In a week your skin will desiccate, and you'll mummify. A living corpse, unable to hurt anyone—ever," and this last declaration, fortified with conviction and confidence.

A sore cough escaped his constricted throat that was meant to be a depraved, disbelieving, humorless laugh—"So what, you're just going to leave me in the basement… forever?"

A hint of a smile twitched on Stefan's lips, but his face remained impassive. "I've injected you with enough vervain to keep you weak." _Now_, his voice held a strong power, a passionate infliction—pride, unadulterated, satisfied accomplishment. "Once your circulation stops, I'll move you to the family crypt and then in fifty years, we can reevaluate."

Damon was teetering in and out of the brink of consciousness, and he was far more alarmed than he let on. Unwilling to let Stefan take advantage of his vulnerability, he spat out with as much vigor as he could muster, "I'm stronger than you think."

A real, genuine smile this time—slightly nostalgic, with a definite undertone of regret, "You always have been." Within a millisecond, his face hardened, a dangerous glint appeared in his eyes—his posture straightened, a smirk on his lips. "But you're not stronger than the vervain, and we both know it."

A pregnant pause hung in the air, awkward and full of heavy anticipation, both of them too weary to articulate their feelings—Damon, physically, and Stefan emotionally. "I'm sorry," Stefan admits, a heavy weight on his shoulders, pressing down forcefully with every painful moan Damon mewls in desperation.

Before he moves to leave, Stefan's last words echo in Damon's head before he collapses unconscious—it was laced with more than a twinge of guilt, resigned and resentful—"It didn't have to be this way."

* * *

Whatever this fortifying substance was, he couldn't get enough of it. It was a river of ambrosia—the nectar of the Gods, pure streams of liquid gold. He lapped ravenously at it, eager to devour every delicious morsel. Suddenly, it stopped—his eyes blinked open wearily, but all he was met with was darkness. A pop of something he didn't recognize emitted a spark of fire—a match, was it a match?—that illuminated his desolate surroundings and a face appeared in front of him.

It was a familiar face, one that he was accustomed to seeing swirling in and out of dreams and visions of the glorious life he'd been denied for however long he'd been in this captivity. A face that had once mocked him mercilessly, a reminder of everything he'd lost; dark eyes that had sparkled with indignation, always a twinge of hatred in their deep brown depths… someone that he could admit had piqued his interest once upon a time.

"Elena?" He gasped out, his voice hoarse and scratchy, having fallen into disuse for seemingly a long time.

The girl with the dark eyes smirked, and a surge of recognition flowed through his body. But _no_—that's… that's not possible.

"Not exactly," she admitted, her eyes gleaming with mirth. "You look wretched," she insulted flippantly; "Get up; we've got a lot of things to discuss. You've missed out on a hell of a lot."

She harshly hoisted him up by his elbows and forced him to a standing position and he staggered back immediately, his limbs still frail and bruised.

Katherine—it was Katherine, right?—gave him a quick once over, her eyes locking with his as a forlorn smile he wasn't accustomed to seeing adorning her delicate features spread across her face—

"Welcome back, Damon."

* * *

**Notes: **What do you think? Interesting-yes, no? I always thought it was a little silly the way Damon used Caroline to get out of the cell, so this is my revision. The rating on this will also probably go up, just something to note. Hope you enjoyed, and please leave a review if you have any comments, suggestions or constructive criticism. :)


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